


After Life

by BandanaBlue



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Character Death, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BandanaBlue/pseuds/BandanaBlue
Summary: This is a sequel to Forever and The Telling told from a different perspective.





	

This hurts. It hurts so much more than I ever imagined, dammit.

Oh, I'm not talkin' about the .45 slug that slammed into my chest. Okay, maybe that did hurt some...no, I'm talkin' about my partner, Hannibal Heyes.

Ever since the day that bullet stopped my heart and the light grew dim around Heyes' terrified face, I've been hurtin'. 

Him trying to carry on without me beside him has been hell — for both of us. He misses me in the worst way. I know. I've seen it. 

I suppose I always had a feelin' it would end something like that. I was about sixteen years old the first time I had to use my fast draw against another man. It scared the hell outta me then and it kinda scared me every time after that too, although I knew I never showed it. Y' see, it was only a matter of time before I would meet somebody who was faster than me or who would put a bullet in my back. Heyes knew it too. Whenever I pulled my gun I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes. It kinda went with the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. A smile of relief that I had proved, once again, that I was faster.

It was real weird standing there on the street while he knelt in the blood-soaked dirt beside my empty body. His hand still clasped mine and I could hear him whispering to me not to leave him. I felt his pain but I couldn't do a dang thing about it. Silently, I prayed that he wouldn't do anythin' stupid like go after the fella who did it, or worse still, use his gun on himself.

Devil's Hole was a good choice — I was pleased he'd decided to bury me there. I kept my distance that day, watching him struggle to contain his emotions as the boys put me in the ground. He stood for so long by the grave I thought he was gonna stay there all night.

When he returned to Brokenvale and stopped plumb in the middle of the main street lookin' at the exact spot where it happened, I wrapped my arms around him from behind and held him tight. Resting my chin on his shoulder I whispered in his ear telling him I was okay and that he would be okay too, but I don't think it gave him much comfort.

I could sense him trembling as he watched them hang the cowpoke who had pulled the trigger. It was weird but...when the rope stopped swingin' I saw that very same fella standin' by the gallows and I knew he could see me. I just nodded to him, acknowledging the fact that he was dead now too. Thoughts of anger or revenge didn't even cross my mind and that surprised me knowing what his actions were now putting my partner through.

In Porterville I sat on the corner of Lom's big old desk and listened while Heyes told him he was still gonna try for the amnesty. I was real pleased to hear that. We've been tryin' so hard to go straight that I don't want him to stop now. 

I want to see the day he gets the piece of paper, signed by the Governor hisself, that'll give him a new life. Maybe he'll get married and have a passel of kids. I know what y'all are thinkin' but Heyes did used to like women. He bedded plenty. So did I. That was before we gave in to our feelin's for each other. It doesn't mean that, now I'm gone, he can't like them again, does it?

The day he went to Denver to see Clem was one of the worst, I reckon. I wanted to comfort them both so bad, but all I could do was watch as they grieved. See. I said it hurts, didn't I?

If only Heyes knew I was here goin' though all this with him. I feel the longing in his heart as he lies awake at night picturing me next to him. It's a pity, 'cause I am there, wishing he could touch me and that he could feel me touching him. Lately, when he's gotten through another day and he's sitting drinkin' coffee by the light of the campfire, he talks to me. I figure that's a good thing, ain' it? The words still catch in his throat sometimes but it gives me hope that his silver tongue might still work like it used to.

There was one day when, just for a few seconds, I was sure he'd seen me. He was sittin' by the river in Devil's Hole. I couldn't bear to see him weep again so I had kept my distance and stood a ways off among the trees. He'd been studying the silver ring I'd given him and when he looked up I was sure he'd looked straight at me. So, I walked across the meadow toward him. I walked right up to him and held out my hand, but he didn't take it. How could he? Hell, I'm just a ghost. 

It's okay, I know I'm a ghost. A ghost, it seems, who can't pass over — not yet anyways. 

I figure I'm supposed to stay here until Heyes don't need me anymore or, and it rips me up inside to say this, until he joins me. Sometimes, when I look at him and I see he's not eatin', not sleepin', the light fading a little more each day from those gorgeous brown eyes of his, I wonder if it may be sooner than I think. 

In the end, his future is mostly in his own hands but there is one thing I'm sure of. There will come a day when we're gonna be together again, riding the trail, and this time it will be forever.


End file.
